


Are those my handcuffs?

by haleyross



Series: A Week From Hell ( Fuckruary 2021) [4]
Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Angry Chloe, Angst, Angst and Feels, F/M, Feels, Fuckruary 2021 (Lucifer TV), Handcuffs, Light BDSM, Orgasm Delay/Denial, handjob
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-28
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-19 08:15:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29747604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haleyross/pseuds/haleyross
Summary: Set after the events in Sex Monster, Chloe, annoyed that Lucifer has yet again missed her phone call, walks into him handcuffed to his bed.
Relationships: Chloe Decker/Lucifer Morningstar
Series: A Week From Hell ( Fuckruary 2021) [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2162415
Comments: 4
Kudos: 101





	Are those my handcuffs?

**Author's Note:**

> Prompts Used in this fic:
> 
> February 5th  
> Trope/Kink: BDSM 
> 
> February 21st  
> Trope/Kink: Orgasm Control (delay, denial, edging)

\---

Chloe nervously slaps her hand on her thigh as the elevator whirrs beneath her feet. Her body aches everywhere and her heart thumps inside her chest. Part of her believes she shouldn’t be embarrassed about being left alone with Lucifer after the night they had. That perhaps talking about it, and their feelings and what it means might be the mature way to move forward. The other part, the avoidant part of her, thinks diving into their case and ignoring what happened is the best. So, that is what she is doing or at least trying to do, but her partner isn’t picking up his phone. She had been calling him for half an hour with no response. Normally she’d walk into his penthouse, annoyed and upset with little care about who was with him. Now, the prospect of him having company feels different. _And why are her armpits so sweaty?_

The elevator opens and she cautiously turns her eyes to the living room, expecting to find it covered in strewn about clothing and evidence of a late night of drinking. Instead, the living room looks clean, untouched.

“Luci-” Her voice goes hoarse. She clears her throat. “Lucifer? You aren’t answering your phone. _Again_.”

Her eyes dart around, looking for any sign that things other than sleep had happened here. She shouldn’t think that Lucifer had spent the night inside of her and then come back to his place to finish himself off with a stranger, but ...it would be on-brand.

“Lucifer?”

“Good Morning, Detective. How are you feeling?”

Her eyes snap to the bedroom to find him sitting upright against the headboard of his bed, dressed only in a pair of golden boxers. His arms are outstretched and handcuffed to metal bars coming out of the posts.

She pauses. _What the hell?_ Her eyes cut to the bathroom, expecting it to be occupied. Except the light is off and the door is wide open. “Did I interrupt something?” 

“Oh no,” he smiles. “No. it isn’t what it looks li-”

“You’re not answering any of my phone calls.”

“A bit tied up at the moment.”

She nods and crosses her arms. “I see.”

There is a brief moment of silence, heavy with so much left unsaid. “So … should I ask?”

“I’d prefer you did.”

She narrows her eyes and sighs. “Lucifer,” she says, her hand coming to her head again. “I ...look, I just want today to be normal, and-and you’re not helping. So. Just. Can we forget any of what happened? At least for today?” She steps forward and reaches to uncuffs him.

He shifts his body away from her. “No!”

She pauses.

“After last night, I figured you might need some reassurances. You know, that my intentions aren’t to harm you.”

“Lucifer ...”

“Please, let me explain.”

“You don’t have to explain anything to me,” she huffs. “I was unhinged and …and you stepped in to help. Yeah, it is disappointing, but I’m not blaming you for any of it. Well...you did have steal fhose pills from evidence- and why are they in a pain pill bottle?”

“I-”

“No, sorry. Not the point,” she interrupts.

There is a brief moment of silence and she sighs. “Look. I get it, you were helping me out, and really, _truly_ , I don't think I would have trusted anyone to help me the way you did. But I'm not dumb enough to think it meant anything. You know, you’re ...you’re a wealthy, single guy who has women falling over him at literally every corner and then some. I get it. I’m-”

“Detective, no, no… you misunderstand.”

“I can’t misunderstand you being half-naked and handcuffed, Lucifer.”

“I did this to myself.”

She pauses. Her shoulders drop and her forehead wrinkles in confusion. “What?”

“ I figured after what you saw last night, you would be far more comfortable if I appeared to be subdued.”

She narrows her eyes, her characteristic annoyance with him coming out. “You handcuffed yourself and then _purposefully_ ignored my phone calls so you could talk to me about a hallucination I had last night?”

“Yes, well, when you say it like-”

She rolls her eyes and pinches the bridge of her nose. “Lucifer, I - I just… this week has been hell for me-”

“More than you know.”

“- and I just want _one_ normal day. Just to … _process_ everything. I just want to forget any of this happened.”

“You do?” The confusion on his face is only barely covering the hurt.

“No, I mean ...not like that, I mean…” She grunts and sits at the foot of his bed. She is silent for a while, just thinking as he watches her.

“The person that I was last night was not me,” she says, turning to him. “I was … crazy, and I couldn’t focus on anything that wasn’t sex-related-”

“You were beautiful.”

“I was _horrible_. The things I said and did, I mean … poor Dan.”

Lucifer chuckles and she glares at him.

“Detective, you didn’t _make_ Daniel do anything. He volunteered.”

She sighs. “Look, I … I really appreciate you coming through for me last night and it's definitely something we need to talk about. It’s just not how I pictured-”

Lucifer’s eyebrows quirk.

“I mean, that’s not how I- that’s not what I thought. Shit. I mean-”

“Say no more, Detective. I completely understand.”

She sighs in relief. “Thank you.”

He nods. “I just … I wanted to make sure you understood that I would never hurt you.”

“I know.”

“My intention is not to bring any harm to you, or anyone for that matter. I’m only here because … well, my former place of residence was quite literally Hell. Not exactly the greatest vacation spot.”

She shakes her head, amused. “You said you wouldn’t make fun of me.”

“I’m not. I … what if what you saw last night, the hallucination you told me about, what if it was not a hallucination?”

She rolls her eyes. “I know what I saw.”

“And I believe you. I’m just asking what if it were real. If my real face and body were … _different_.”

“You mean, If you were the devil...?” she clarifies.

He nods and she shakes her head, a small smile on her face. At least _this_ was normal.

“I don’t believe in that stuff, you know that.”

“You should,” he counters.

She sighs. “Lucifer… look, last night-”

“Last night, you saw who I really am, Detective and- and you were terrified. I felt it. I just want to make sure you know that you never have to be afraid of me.”

She shakes her head and brings her hand up to smooth out the wrinkles forming on her forehead.

“Lucifer…”

“Chloe.” She turns her eyes to him, her name drawing her attention, and pauses. The eyes that stare back at her are a bright crimson and full of hellfire.

“What if it were real?” he asks.

Her jaw drops and she stands, slowly moving away from the bed. “I… you ….what- you…”

She huffs, her chest tightening. “It’s true.”

Slowly the red in his eyes fade to a deep brown.

She huffs, hitting the ancient wall at the archway to his bedroom. “You’re ...you’re the devil.”

“Yes,” he says sadly, his eyes bouncing back and forth from her to the bed, unsure.

“I had sex with the devil.”

“You wouldn’t be the first,” he chuckles. She doesn't laugh.

“Right. Improper timing.”

Chloe stumbles down the stairs to his bedroom, barely taking her eyes off him. “You- you.”

“I did tell you, Detective,” he says, his palm open, his wrists still very much cuffed. “And my word has always been truthful. Even when it was best to not be.”

“You-you’re ...you’re the devil! The _actual_ devil.”

He nods, his head hung low. “I am.”

She stares at him, wide-eyed, as she continues backing up. When she is a reasonable distance away, she turns and runs to the elevator. She frantically presses the elevator button as she looks back at him. She doesn't want to take her eyes off him, fear climbing up her spine. She thinks of murder and death, of chaos and evil. He sits on the bed, unmoving and still cuffed.

“I meant it!” he yells back as the elevator door opens and she disappears inside. When the elevator doors close, he sighs, a shadow crawling over his form. He sulks against the sheets, the cuffs pulling at his wrists.

He sits there, barely fidgeting even as the sun slowly lowers over the city of Los Angeles. He falls asleep, then sings, and momentarily questions getting up to pee. He decides against it, just in case she comes back at that moment. He gave his word to her that he wouldn’t move from this spot. So he doesn’t.

He is sleeping when the elevator doors open again and Chloe cautiously steps back into the penthouse. It is dark, exceptionally so, as not a single light in the penthouse is on.

She steps in slowly and barely makes out the shape of him in the moonlight. He is still handcuffed to his bed, unmoving. She clears her throat and he stirs. His eyes glisten and the smile that curves on his face is enough to brighten the room.

“Detective,” he whispers, awed. “You came back.”

She nods, slowly and carefully approaching the bed. “I uhm … I did a lot of thinking. And googling. I even … I spoke to Ella about religion.”

“Ms. Lopez,” he sighs, his voice gravelly and low. “What a wonderful perspective she has.”

Chloe nods. “Is it the right one? That -that you’re not evil?”

Lucifer’s smile falls. “Detective, I have zero interest in good or bad, only just. Fair. Daddy issues notwithstanding.”

He smiles tensely, hoping the joke lands. She just fiddles with her fingers, keeping her safe position at the bottom of the steps.

“So you're not here to -to cause chaos and destruction?”

His eyebrows furrow. “What on _earth_ have you been reading? No. I told you. I much prefer the sunshine and fresh air to fire and brimstone.

“Why here? Why now?”

“I thought it would be plainly obvious by now, Detective.” He shakes the cuffs on his bed and she turns her eyes to them.

Her shoulders drop. “You’re still handcuffed.”

“I said I wouldn’t move, Detective. My word is all I have, considering my reputation is, well, charred.”

She narrows her eyes, watching him for a moment. He just stares at her. Cautiously she ascends the steps.

“You can get out of that if you wanted to, though. I’ve seen you do it.”

“If I wanted, yes.”

She narrows her eyes further, stopping at the top of the steps. “But you don’t want to?”

“That would defeat the purpose of handcuffing myself in the first place. Show of faith and all that.”

She eyes him for a moment before cautiously stepping forward. His eyes never leave hers and hers never leave his. When she is by his bedside, he is taken back by the flatness in her eyes. She’s looking at him the same way she looks at the files on her computer, with a discerning eye. She doesn’t say anything, she just stares at him, committing every feature to memory. Her eyes look up to his forehead, checking for horns.

“While you’re here, would it be possible to ask you to get me a glass of water? I’m a bit parched.”

She eyes him for a bit before slowly walking back to the stairs, her eyes never leaving him. She turns briefly to head down the steps but checks back every few seconds to make sure he is still there.

When she reaches the bar, she pours a glass of water from the decanter. “So you did this to what? Prove I can trust you? This means nothing.”

“I did it to prove I would never harm you. That I wouldn’t do anything you didn’t want me to, including leaving my own bed.”

She approaches his bedside with the glass of water and holds it out for him. He looks at the glass, then at the handcuffs.

“A bit impossible, love.”

Her face scrunches in anger and she tosses the glass into his face. “I’m not your maid!”

He raises his eyes and shakes the water off his face. “I -I wasn’t implying that-”

“I have purpose! And-and I’m not your _thing_ that you can do whatever it is you please.”

His forehead wrinkles and he tilts his head, confused. “Darling, is this about yesterday? I was simply trying to push you over the edge.”

“I have a good job and-and a beautiful daughter-”

“I’m not saying you should-”

“And my life has meaning! _Without_ you, okay?”

“Chloe!”

She shuts up, shifting on her feet as nerves and adrenaline course through her body.

“Chloe I-I was just trying to help. I didn’t mean any of it. Truth be told, you’re much better off without me. I mean, I drink, I smoke, I have sex with whoever wants me. I have no qualms about theft or deceit as long as no one gets hurt in the process. Darling, I _am_ the devil, but … I’m not here to make your life miserable despite what a bloody brilliant job I’ve done of it.”

He turns his head, shaking it. “I’ve mucked it up, haven't I? I mean, before me you at least had a chance at happiness, at normal.”

He scoffs and turns back to her. “How many times have I managed to almost get you killed?”

“That’s because you only care about yourself. You always make everything about you.”

He huffs. “Yes. I thought that might have changed but... I guess you can’t teach a devil new tricks.”

“Oh, am I supposed to feel pity for you now?” she asks, annoyed.

He grunts. “Don’t. I don’t need your pity or want it.”

She narrows her eyes and they sit in silence for a few seconds.

He inhales sharply and hesitates before speaking. “At the risk of sounding like an absolute twat, would you mind getting me a towel? I seem to have gotten a bit wet.”

“Get it yourself.”

“I would, but I keep running into a stitch of captivity.” He shakes the cuffs attached to the bed.

“Self-imposed. That you can get out of at any time.”

“And what do you think that says about my intentions?”

“What? You think putting yourself in a situation that you can get out of at any time makes me want to trust you? _The devil?_ Do you think I’m stupid?”

“Absolutely not.”

“What are you attempting to prove?” she asks. “That you can manipulate me? That you can get in my brain and-and convince me you’re some misunderstood but charming guy?”

“I am, but no- no that is not my-”

“So what is it?! Just tell me because I - I can’t … I’m losing my _fucking_ mind.”

He groans. “Detective-”

In an instant, her hand falls across his face with such force that it turns his head to the side. Then a wave of sharp, red pain hits him.

“Don’t-” she accuses, on the verge of tears. “Don’t you make me feel like I’m crazy! Like I didn’t just spend the night fucking two different men. Like I didn't just discover that one of them, my partner, the man I love, is the _actual_ devil.”

He stills, shock on his face. He furrows his eyebrows.

She pauses as well, realizing she just said that out loud. They sit in stunned silence for a second. Her mouth opens, trying to form words and her eyes instinctively move to his boxers to find him sporting a massive erection. She recoils.

“Are you … are you seriously hard right now?”

“Sorry, I - a beautiful woman slapped me and i’m handcuffed to my bed. You can imagine how the wires might get crossed.”

She scoffs. “Are you serious right now?”

“Darling, It has a mind of its own. I can’t control-”

“That’s honestly all you care about isn't it? Indulgence. What _feels_ good instead of what is good?”

“I care very much about good people,” Lucifer says, his tone serious. “You included.”

She shakes her head. “I’m not falling for that. I- I’m not going to fall for your lies and your manipulations.”

“Never. I would never lie to-”

“Is there anything, anything you can give me?” she begs, on the verge of breaking down. “Anything that will make all of this seem ridiculous and simple and-and fine? I just - can you give me something to get me through the night? To make everything just ...be calm for long enough to get some sleep. I’m tired, Lucifer. I’m … i’m so tired.” 

Lucifer opens his mouth, trying to find the words to say to make it all better. “I - I don’t… No, Detective. I can’t.”

She huffs, tears beginning to fill her eyes. She watches as he tries hard to find the words. Then her devastation gives way to anger. She feels stupid to have fallen into his trap. To have walked back to a man, a being, who willingly shackles himself under the guise of martyrdom.

The anger pools into her body until she walks forward, sits on his bed and tugs on the end of his boxers. He stares at her, shocked.

“What are you doing?” he asks, nervously.

She grabs a hold of his cock and starts to stroke it vigorously. “I’m proving a point.”

“I’m confused, are we still fighting?”

“You only care about yourself and your wants. Tying yourself to your bed does nothing when you can truly get out of it.”

He stares at her, his eyes moving to her lips. He stretches his legs out, tilting his hips into her hand.

“If all you care about is what you want, then the only way to prove you aren’t manipulating me is to make you choose.”

“As much as I would love a handjob right now, I have to say I’m not quite catching the-”

“You aren’t allowed to cum.”

He stares at her, dumbfounded. “Pardon?”

“You have to choose. What I want or what you want. I want to know I can count on you. That all of this isn't just some big ruse to manipulate me. You… well, _you_ are going to want to cum. You can’t have both.”

“I … I don’t understand.”

“You are not allowed to cum,” she repeats, her hand twisting around his cock. She lets go, spits into her hand then goes back to it, her eyes never leaving his.

He slowly nods, understanding what is happening. It wasn’t enough to cuff himself, she wanted him to use his willpower. To deny himself something he always wanted and gave away freely. Pleasure. For nothing more than her sanity and her trust, he was to deny himself pleasure.

“Okay.”

They sit in silence as she works his cock. Slowly he begins to pant, his eyelids lowering through each tug. Her grip is perfect and her strokes, while a little dry, work him in a way that make his hips rock naturally into her grip. His eyes slowly shut, and he pumps his hips into her stroke to synchronize a timing that makes him moan. His wrists pull against the cuffs. The sound of metal scraping against wood knocks him back to where he is and he opens his eyes to find her staring at him.

He openly pants then tosses his head back in a light moan. She looks down at what she is doing to catch his testicles rising before falling back into a low position. 

“Chloe,” he moans and her eyes turn back to him. A warm wave of heat crawls up her back and she stops for a moment. He laxes against he bed, happy for a moment of reprieve.

She slips her jacket off and tosses it onto a nearby chair. 

“Lube?”

He turns his glance to a bedside table. “Top drawer.”

She scoffs. “Of course.”

“Darling, there is nothing wrong with liking sex.”

“There is when it's all you like.”

“That isn’t true. I like you.”

She grunts and pops the cap on the bottle of lube. She squeezes a good amount into her hand then grips his erection. He sighs as she rubs it all over his cock. Then, she works him, using her right hand to hold him steady and the other grips and pulls on his shaft.

His eyelids droop lower and he begins to pump his hips again. She works him until he is panting heavily and straining against the cuffs. She looks down in time to see his testicles rising high against his body. He’s close to orgasm.

“Don’t do it,” she barks.

He balls his fist, panting and squirming against her ministrations. “Chloe,” he grunts.

“You’re not allowed to.”

He huffs as she continues to work him, the look of pleasure on his face slowly turning into pain. 

“Detective I-” he begins, weakly.

“I said no!”

He whimpers, his body rising off the bed as she jacks him faster. The wood on the bed creaks as he pulls tightly on the chains. Then, a crimson pops into his eyes as he holds on tightly. 

She stops momentarily, shock at the change in his eye color. He stares at her with hellfire behind it, but instead of feeling terrified she feels ...powerful.

_I would scorch the earth for you._

She goes back to jacking him, faster, harder. He stares at her, fire wildly burning in his eyes.

“Chloe-” he whimpers.

His chest rises and falls quickly, panting shallowly as he holds on. He turns his head, his eyes glazed over even as the fire rages behind them. She continues to work him, his panting quicker and his moans now weak cries. She turns her eyes to him to find him staring off into nothing, his mouth parted.

He’s dissociating. Suddenly it hits her, how truly wrong this was. It wasn’t his fault, none of it was. She wasn’t angry at him, she was angry at herself. She knows who he is, he is Lucifer. The quirky, often misguided man who thinks he is the devil because _he is_. Guilt pours through her body and she starts to tear up. 

“You can cum!” she blurts out. 

He just stares out, fire raging behind his eyes.

“Lucifer!” she huffs, setting a hand on his chest. It catches his attention, however fleeting it might be and their eyes lock.

“You can cum,” she repeats. But he just stares at her. Tears continue to fall from her eyes.

“Cum for me, please!” she huffs.

The sound he releases is soft, pitiful, but overwhelmingly erotic. Then, she feels his cock jump in her hands and looks down just in time to see hot, thick ropes arching into the air and falling onto his chest. He tilts his head back, allowing it to fall between his outstretched and locked arms. He opens his mouth wide and a low moan escapes his lips. It is laced with so much want and relief and is a delightful reminder of the way he sounds and the noises he makes. It puts color into her neck and starts a low, tingling spark of something between her legs. She strokes him through his orgasm slowly and lovingly. His release goes everywhere. Most of it lands on his chest, his neck, and parts of his face. But a lot of it pools into his belly, falling over her hand like a fountain.

He groans, then lets out a long moan, his head slowly falling back again as his body elongates and tightens. He whimpers, overwhelmed by the feeling and he tilts his pelvis forward. His belly lowers and his ribs raise, creating a valley for his semen to pool into.

She just stares, her jaw dropped and an insistent heat between her legs.

He squirms as he finishes and she continues to softly, slowly stroke him. Then, he laxes completely, a strange glow around him and a lazy smile on his face. He pants as she continues to grip him, his cock throbbing in her hands despite nothing coming out anymore. When she feels it is okay, she carefully let's go. He whines, his cock sensitive, as she lays it carefully against his stomach.

He turns his eyes to her, half-open and glazed in euphoria. Tears fall down her face.

“I’m sorry,” she says, her lip quivering. 

He smiles. “Me too,” he coos, too far into the afterglow for his voice to hold any credibility. But she knows it. She knows he would have held out forever for her. He closes his eyes and pants, coming down from an intense high. She stands and gathers a warm washcloth from the bathroom. Then she gently wipes him down, he hums beneath her touch. She smiles at his vocalizations, conflict behind her eyes. She can’t help but feel attached to him, loving even, despite knowing he is the devil. Despite seeing something unhuman burning within his eyes. Despite remembering his form, buried deep within her, telling her how powerless she is. She eyes him, nude, handcuffed to his bed with a chest damp from cum and water.

She tilts her head. It felt like she held all the power.

His eyes open, and he turns his glance up to her, not fully back yet, but the twinkle behind his eyes tells her he is almost there.

“Are we still fighting?” he asks.

She shakes her head and sits down next to him. “No.”

“So, might I be freed?”

She chuckles and nods, wiping the tears from her eyes. He watches as she takes her time unlocking the handcuffs. He pulls his arms back, folding them and taking joy in the relief of having them no longer be vertical. He hears her whimpering and looks up to find her holding herself, tears falling from her eyes. He sits up.

“Detective?”

“Sorry... I...”

He sighs and wraps his arms around her. She falls into his embrace, her hands over her face. His hand rubbing her back gives her permission and she falls apart, weeping into his arms.

“I know,” he says, his own eyes tearing up. “I know.”


End file.
